Nursing appreciation slogans

I am 9 months postpartum and had a high-risk pregnancy, so lots of stress and anxiety on top of my normal day-to-day anxiety. Plus postpartum anxiety and depression. I developed an eye twitch throughout pregnancy, but my B12 was never tested. I had my eyes checked a few months postpartum because it got so annoying and all looked good.
I am nursing and my daughter showed signs of a dairy and egg intolerance when she was three weeks old, so I’m not consumed any dairy or egg in 9 months. I also don’t eat a lot of red meat and never eat fish.
I went to the doctor a few days ago for a physical and mentioned my eye and wanted to get my blood checked. Turns out my B12 is 177. My anxiety is SO bad though and I can’t help but to feel its more serious. After getting one injection and starting to supplement for a few days, I’m starting to get some body twitches- is that normal? The doctor is so nonchalant but I want to make sure that I’m taking the right dosage and taking the right steps. Any recommendations are appreciated. What other bloodwork should I have done?
Also, I know being postpartum, nursing, and being dairy free, probably contributed to this and it’s probably the B12 deficiency giving me symptoms and its not anything more serious (me reassuring myself here lol)

Hi all,
My wife is 14+3 today & this morning she woke up in a puddle of blood in the bed & has been filling multiple pads per hour since; we obviously expected the worst, but we just had an emergency scan & the fetus appears to be fine based on sonography…
We are waiting to see a nurse/doctor but in the meantime just wondering if anyone has experienced anything similar & can share any insights? We are very confused & I am struggling to find anything online that talks to this so appreciate any thoughts!

My partner and I had a baby girl 2 days ago and I am starting to become very nervous due to my anxiety. I have HSV2 for years now and so does my partner we have been dating for about 2-3 years now. She gave a vaginal birth with no issues but I just stumbled upon what neonatal herpes is and I’m losing it. She wasn’t on any antiviral medication and didn’t have any outbreak atleast to my knowledge or that any of the nurses or doctors might’ve noticed. I hear this condition is almost always fatal and I don’t know what to do with myself. My baby isn’t showing any signs of this infection being passed on but I don’t know what to do. If someone can give me some advice or some info on this I would really appreciate it, thanks!

My partner and I had a baby girl 2 days ago and I am starting to become very nervous due to my anxiety. I have HSV2 for years now and so does my partner we have been dating for about 2-3 years now. She gave a vaginal birth with no issues but I just stumbled upon what neonatal herpes is and I’m losing it. She wasn’t on any antiviral medication and didn’t have any outbreak atleast to my knowledge or that any of the nurses or doctors might’ve noticed. I hear this condition is almost always fatal and I don’t know what to do with myself. My baby isn’t showing any signs of this infection being passed on but I don’t know what to do. If someone can give me some advice or some info on this I would really appreciate it, thanks!

So my now 10 month old has always been a pretty awful sleeper (she has reflux disease which is medicated and is so much better), however when she hit 4 months old she began waking every 2 hours on the DOT. Every night. This was never as frequent, even when the reflux was at its worse. She is still waking a lot during the night, 6 months later. The only way she will settle is if I feed(breastfeed) her. She isn’t fed to sleep as part of her routine, but does have a pacifier which is only used for sleep, but when she wakes up, if I try to give it to her she becomes angry and refuses it. I try rocking, everything she will not settle unless fed. After the first wake up it then becomes 2 hourly, same pattern, will only go back to sleep when nursing. Is this just a habit? I have no idea how else to settle her. She screams, arches and is so unhappy at any other way I try to resettle! To add to this we do co sleep. However we’re in the process of slowly introducing the cot and she manages most nights in there for around 4 hours (which is good progress for us) she’s not good at self settling and does require a lot of help to drift off, rocking, singing etc.
Any advice is so so so appreciated!!

Hi everyone, I just wanted some advice on my current position to see how I can set myself up nicely in the next decade and see how I'm doing at the minute.
I've recently turned 31 and have always been a bit of a finance and spreadsheet nerd, so have always tracked my person finances ever since I earned an income from my waitering job when I was 14.
I feel as though I'm in a reasonably good position, but wanted some advice how to maximise my 30s to set myself up well going into my 40s. I don't know why, I just feel as though the next decade is quite a big one to set my future self up well. My current position is below:
Salary: £75k (expect this to move to £80k in the next month or two) Take home after tax, NI and company car: £3.9k Another form of income brings in an average of £300 Total take home: £4.2k
My outgoings total about £4k/month give or take. My mortgage and bills come to £2k/month and then we spend an average of £2k/month on food and all activities/holiday funds. We're certainly not materialistic but do spend a fair amount on travelling to different places.
Current finances are: House value £380k, mortgage just under £270k, so £110k equity. Workplace pension: £50k Emergency fund spread across high interest savings accounts: £30k Bitcoin: £40k Vanguard account (mainly S&P500): £15k Total net worth: £245k
The last few years have been difficult, with my income being the only source for the house. My girlfriend has finished a nursing degree which has taken 3 years and is due to start a new role in August on a starting salary of £28k. This will bring in another £1.8k I'm assuming.
Based on that, with my salary and my partner's new source of income, we'd have about £2k/month extra which I'm thinking on consistently adding into the vanguard SS ISA.
My questions I'm hoping for some advice on are the following: - Is the thought of investing all outstanding income into S&P 500/World fund (£2k/month) the best plan? There are months we'll have more than this, but I'd say that's the average. - I've been with my partner for 6 years and she's definitely the one. However I bought the property myself 7 years ago before her and she has only ever contributed the food bills etc. I've always paid the full mortgage and bills etc. She has just over £5k to her name. Are we to just combine everything anyway once we tie the knot? - Is my current position pretty good? I've worked hard throughout my 20s whilst still travelling a lot and having an overall great time. I'm unsure whether I'll want to retire early, but I certainly want full financial independence. (Well aware of the FIRE community and read a lot of their posts). Is my plan through my 30s going to set us up well and make us FI if we stay consistent with the additional income?
Last point, no kids yet and will be a flip of a coin whether we have them eventually. If I was a betting man I'd probably say we will in about 5 years time. I understand this would completely change our path, but we'll cross that if it ever happens.
Appreciate your advice in advance and apologies for the essay.

Should I buy IPad and MacBook for nursing school ? Any suggestions would be appreciated!!

I got ghosted by my long term gf (19F) for my (19M) male best friend. I (18M) met my long term gf in high school where we dated for 3 years, we were each others first everything. My gf had become distant no longer messaging me, seeing me etc. some of you may ask why we don’t live with eachother? It’s because she’s a travel nurse so she has to travel for work. I am okay with this, some mates ask if I get lonely but I just want too see her happy, however this week my best friend who is also a nurse had gone with my gf up the coast. I do not know what for my gf was sketchy on the details but during the time she was there she’d text me saying she loves me, etc. This stopped the day she was supposed to come home. I had waited for her at the train station we had planned to meet at to pick her up, she had completely ghosted me not answering my messages and going straight to voicemail. I decided to wait 2 more hours just incase when eventually she texted me saying she had a panicking attack and fainted. I went home kind of defeated but texted her the next day telling her it is okay and I love her and admire her for telling the truth I can pick her up another time, she went back to her loving self until the next time I had to pick her up she ghosted me again. I texted her saying I’d appreciate a message back, I contacted her mother too and no response, I do not know what I did too deserve this, or if she had found someone else, my best friend had been on do not disturb and wasn’t answering either, when she finally looked at my messages on Friday night she unadded me from Snapchat, Instagram and blocked my number, tbh I was very hurt and petty, I messaged her from another phone calling her spineless and telling her everything she had said was a lie, she left me on read. I’m left with no answer no nothing, no where to put my hurt all I can do is move on without learning why. Am I the a hole?

Awake in the middle of the night because I tried to drink some water and spilled it all over my bed and johnny, and was lying there with my dick cloud/phallus palace in my lap, soaked in the dark and I thought to myself "hm, maybe this is the lowest I've ever been."
Which I had thought to myself a few hours prior when trying to use a commode because I had a stomach pain. I had been shuffled over with leaked on puppy pads sticking to my butt and sat on the commode and after the nurses left, just farted SO fucking loud and the pain went away. Then I knocked over the nurse call button and I thought, "hm, maybe this is the lowest I've ever been."
Which is what I'd thought about a few hours prior when my boyfriend came to visit me after work and I immediately burst into tears when they walked into my room and gave me a hug. I cried so hard and told them "I just want to go home, I don't want to be here anymore." And I remember thinking as I cried like a kid "damn, maybe this is the lowest I've ever been."
Which is what I thought to myself the day before when I had woken up with such terrible muscle seizes that I was interrupting my nurses and begging for /literally anything/ to make me feel better (it was muscle relaxers and I only needed them twice).
I knew this would be the worst of it. I knew that. I just didn't know how fucking exhausting and humiliating it would be. Luckily I don't have a huge ego and I can take the hits, look at myself from the outside and appreciate the absurdity of my situation, but it's not like... Fun. I'm focusing on the fact that this part is temporary, that I will become independent, that my dick will not live in a giant foam castle in my lap, and I will leave this 80°F room.
So that's the rant out of the way. My actual healing has been really good (knock on wood). My tissue oximeter is steady, my blood can be heard fully throughout whenever they check for it, no signs of infection (yet) (no UL btw, just ALT and burial rn), and it's warm and happy in its little nest. I sleep okay, eat terribly, but I was able to get out of bed for the first time today. Sleep got interrupted by my being an idiot with water in the dark, but I'll be able to sleep a little more before rounds soon. Everyone is very pleased with my progress, and while I don't want to leave their medical care per se, I can't WAIT to be back home where I might be more comfortable and less embarrassed. Nothing like shuffling across the room to a chair while gripping your wrapped up dick with your ass out to humble a man.
The wrap is... Difficult. It's very present. It's hard to ignore because it's essentially like a two tiered cake sitting in your lap at all times and we all just do our best to ignore it. I actually had to call some family members who were going to visit me and say hey... Don't do that. I actually can't handle having a conversation with you while my massive dong/boner home sits in between us.
I know most of my experience is mental health related - actually going to do a second one for that later- but that doesn't change the fact that it has been difficult and uncomfortable by no one's fault, I think it's just difficult and uncomfortable 🤷🏻
Still don't regret it, still have lots of hope for later on, just man. How many new ways will I find to have some personal lows? Does my ego even have a limit of what it can take? I hope it gets better soon.

Heloo am a RN in my country, i've always loved nursing but i want to major into medical writing . I have been a freelancer for almost 5 years (writing while studying nursing) . Can anyone help or advice me on where i can get online medical writing jobs, i will appreciate. Main reason for doing this is because we are paid peanuts and this is on a monthly basis not per hour

So I (24M) am going through a difficult time emotionally in terms of trying to figure out my current situation. One thing I can’t get over is what went wrong with my parents who are somehow still together. They both CLEARLY don’t like each other very much and I’m pretty sure the reason why is that they spend way too much time in the house together and it’s been going on for so long. My dad “worked” from home for a long time as a photographer (basically most of the time that I’ve known him) and things got real tough on his business for a good minute. But he went out of his way to not suck it up and do certain work that would’ve helped pay the bills (refused to shoot weddings, other things that annoyed him). It honestly comes off to me now as a bit lazy, and low and behold do I learn that he was a big pot head for my entire life. I personally don’t have an issue with weed, but I used to find it strange why he never really had energy. He also used to vent to me about his marital frustrations and how depressed he was CONSTANTLY, which I think I’ve figured out is because he smoked too much damn weed. This also made things very hard to enjoy when I was growing up bc I think I kinda felt responsible for him. He was always in an existential crisis. I’m gonna stick with the occasional joint but I’m going to be a booze guy from here on out (responsibly I might add, I’m not an idiot). Through all that, I generally have pretty good memories with him as he could be lots of fun at times. In terms of fatherly advice though, he kinda sounds like he barely, if at all, knows what he’s talking about. A lot. BUT, he did show up to everything that me or my brother were involved with and was and still is our biggest fan. He may just kinda repeat back what I say a lot when I ask for advice, but at least he’s trying. I appreciate the effort.
Mom was different. She worked a nursing job on the weekends that she had to commute to. This pretty much destroyed her mental health in my opinion, as she’s incredibly isolated and used to exaggerate how bad, irresponsible, and not caring I was as a kid and teen (I was the kind of kid adults DREAM of. 4.0 student, full ride, helpful, interesting hobbies but can also have fun. Never a burden to anyone really, club joiner, plenty of friends. The whole 9 yards). I was pretty introverted but I think it’s because of how they set everything up to be SO isolated. Putting me in an isolating school that was pretty far from our neighborhood because mom resented it. Our house is literally in a ditch that was pretty separated from everyone (only 1 neighborhood friend). Social skills were honestly at a premium to develop, but I survived. She always seemed so irritated at me, would point out a lot of insecurities I had to her friends to laugh about with, and never really cared to participate in things with me. Never showed up to school events or functions that I was involved with, blamed it on a fear of crowds (which she conveniently doesn’t have when it’s something she wanted to do). She was just kinda mean and distant. Did I jaw back and embarrass her occasionally? Sure, but considering other kids were shooting up heroin in our family (a true fucking story that she had to stick her nose in), I think I can be forgiven. This isolation had an incredibly negative impact on her health. The house is a wreck, her heart sucks as she had a heart attack a couple years back. It’s bad. Real bad. All she does is sit on her damn phone and watch tiktok. Her brain (which, she actually was acutely intelligent) is pretty much fried. It also didn’t help to learn from my aunt that my mom has had affairs (I want to think multiple but I can only confirm one), and the one I can confirm is with a convicted pedophile that she continues to defend (and my dad idiotically goes along with her bullshit on it)… so yeah. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information.
So how do I make sense of all this. I’m very bad at communicating what I need unless I’m drunk, but I still want them to do better. I work from home with great pay for a single man, so I’m sorta using that to “make up for lost time” on things I missed out on as a kid, but I still feel isolated and stressed bc of the situation. I know I have a deep mistrust and fear of women that I need to get over as well, but I don’t know how to do that. I’m going to see yet another therapist about this, but even that’s burning me out. What’s with this situation?

My baby is 8 months old. We contact nap with her and she falls asleep in our arms to sleep then transfers to crib. This started from birth as she would always fall asleep while I was nursing her. She really struggles once we put her down in her crib.Sometimes she will sleep through the night and sometimes is up every hour.
Her doctor told us she is manipulating us, to let her cry and to lay her down drowsy but awake. Imo, I don't see an 8 month old having the emotional capacity to manipulate. The doctor also seemed startled when we told him she often sleeps in 4 hour stretches and then wakes to eat.
I feel like it is my fault she can't sleep well in her crib. I don't know how to fix this issue. Is sleep training a possibility at 8 months old after i've let her fall asleep in my arms this long? I can't stand letting her cry for more than a couple minutes. Any advice is appreciated :)

Anybody have any good information about nursing at Baycare? Specifically the schedule and if it is self scheduling. I have a second interview with MPH in Clearwater Monday. Specifically med surg nights. Any info about benefits, pay, schedule, work life I s appreciated. Thanks.

My baby is 8 months old. We contact nap with her and she falls asleep in our arms to sleep then transfers to crib. This started from birth as she would always fall asleep while I was nursing her. She really struggles once we put her down in her crib. Sometimes she will sleep through the night and sometimes is up every hour.
Her doctor told us she is manipulating us, to let her cry and to lay her down drowsy but awake. Imo, I don’t see an 8 month old having the emotional capacity to manipulate. The doctor also seemed startled when we told him she often sleeps in 4 hour stretches and then wakes to eat.
I feel like it is my fault she can’t sleep well in her crib. I don’t know how to fix this issue. Is sleep training a possibility at 8 months old after i’ve let her fall asleep in my arms this long? I can’t stand letting her cry for more than a couple minutes. Any advice is appreciated :)

I am sure this is pretty common, so I am hoping someone may have resources or advice to share!
My dad(60) found out as an adult he was adopted, but my grandma was always hurt when he would ask questions after finding out so we don’t really know anything about his birth family. It’s a messy story, and I can get into it if context helps, but essentially my mom was carrying really large with my older brother and my grandma told her she could be carrying twins. My mom said she was pretty confident that wasn’t the case since there aren’t twins on either side of our family, then my grandma shared with my parents that my dad was born with a twin but that she didn’t survive childbirth and that they adopted him.
This of course deeply hurt my dad, he didn’t understand why she hid it, and because he is a nurse and wants to know if there are any medical issues that run in our family we should be aware of. For Christmas my mom got us all genetic tests and since she has had a lot of possible relatives show up but my dad has had none. We did upgrade for medical info but it’s so vague that I’m not sure it really helps with anything.
Is there a way to look up adoption records this long after an adoption? Is there maybe a genetic testing company that is more geared towards this?
My grandma has passed at this point, and I have thought about asking my grandpa but I don’t want to create pain that’s not necessary if there’s another way to learn more about my parents birth family. My dad is my favorite human, and if there’s a way I can help him to find this, I want to try. Any advice is appreciated!
TL;DR - my grandma hid my dad’s adoption from him until he was about 25 years old and about to become a 1st time dad himself. I want to help him learn about his birth family if it’s possible, but don’t know where to start.

First/Previous
“How’d you think that was going to go?” asked a voice from the other side of the door.
I lay on the bunk and stared at the ceiling; my head throbbed. The place where I’d been grazed stung whenever I touched my fingers to it. A bullet had—by whoever’s grace—scraped my scalp and traced a line from the far corner of my right eyebrow. It'd only been three days and it still caused pain. No doctors came and I was certain there would be infection—if not plain infection, then it could always be the worser: skitterbugs. I ached still. I had never fully recovered, not like how I should have.
The day of anger, as I’d begun to think of it in my mind, had caused no great ruckus beyond a few dead men. Two were Bosses, but who knew if they’d announce that as casually as they’d surely announce my execution. Perhaps they’d string me up alongside thieves. A good thief and a bad. What a riot; I deserved no thieves, of course.
What was I? Some great hero? Some idiot was more likely. I wanted misery to befall those that perpetrated it themselves and there I was, more miserable. Perhaps the wrath in my heart came from some mutation; the demon Mephisto resurrected me (so said the demon) and I’d begun to accept it. It was the reason for my poor state, surely, and the more I thought on it, the more I believed it was true; it felt true right down to my bones. The truth hurt or it was age and I rose from the cot I lay on; I’d been detained in a room beside the one I’d visited Andrew many months prior. They’d starved me, rattled the door to try and frighten me, and they’d wasted water on my head to keep me from good sleep.
I did not respond to the voice from the other side of the door and the object rattled in its frame and the voice came again, this time angrier, “Really? How did you think that was going to go? Crazy bastard! Thought you’d put the hurt on the Bosses? Thought you’d kill us at our worst? First, it’s that explosion. You have something to do with that? No! First, it was Harold’s daughter running off!” The voice on the other side of the door grew with mirth as it did with anger. “I’d seen you around town a bit. Thought the Bosses always liked you. Huh. Boss Harold mentioned you at his parties and said how you were a smart fella’, a good fella’, and there you killed him. Stone cold.” The man which spoke was a jailor that tortured me in those dreamlike days I spent locked in their prison, and he seemed personally affronted. “So first it’s the explosions; steam or dust rose out of cracks in the ground you know—some thought hell was rising up, but the Bosses put those thoughts to bed. God, what’s it with the likes of you? The explosions and now I’ve lost an eye and its because of the skitterbugs. You probably brought that on!” The voice muttered and then the door shook in its frame again, seemingly from a hard kick. I wished I could see the face of the man throwing his tantrum. “Can’t wait to see you hang.”
“So, I’ll hang?” I asked the door. There was a long silence, and I was uncertain if I’d pitched my voice enough for the man on the other side to hear me. I opened my mouth to ask, “So-
“You’ll hang.” The man on other side seemed to knock his knuckles against the surface of the door. “Or you’ll die here.”
“What’s Maron said?”
“Don’t you worry about him.”
“What’s he said?”
“Said you’d probably appreciate the punishment that we’d put on you. Said you’re a sick man. Said you like speaking with devils and people like you only find pleasure in such things.”
“So, I won’t hang?”
“Oh, you’ll hang, sir. You’ll hang if I need to do it myself with no one else. If not that, I’ll be sure to put you under one way or another. Accidents happen.” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever enjoyment you find in your tortures won’t compare to what ideas I have.”
A long silence followed, and I watched dust motes dance in the air; the place was stagnant and even a breath caused a shift in their glide. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a better time. I thought of Suzanne. I thought of Gemma. What a time to be alive. I thought of the movies, the books, the musical cartridges that sung of yesteryears. How unlucky I’d been, of course. Something had changed in me though and it was totally refreshing. Perhaps it was in realizing the evils of my brothers was that of a man and not some otherworldly force, or perhaps it was a push that came from years of terrible inconsistencies. All that living in the past and so it was. It didn’t matter—the past. I’d been so busy with it that I’d been in a constant state of unliving. I’d known that always, of course—something new had come.
“You dozing off in there?” asked the jailor.
“Nah.”
“Good. Stay awake or I’ll be forced to stay you awake.”
I’d been reborn with a rage, justified or otherwise, and it was felt all over. It was a wild compulsion. All that time and it had been me that was brought back.
The wound on my head throbbed and I prodded it with a finger and brought the finger away and examined the digit; it was dried well enough, and I did not smell infection nor were there any of the accompanying symptoms of a fever or hallucination. I was me, through and through. For now.
The door banged. I didn’t bother an answer and the door banged again.
“Who’s there?” I asked, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
“Why’d you do it?” asked the jailor.
“You wanna’ ask me about it now?”
“Tell me.” The voice on the other side of the door was serious entirely.
“Bah!” “Bah to you! Why’d you do it?”
“Is there a reason to explain myself? If you knew better the things I knew, would it get you to unlock that door and let me walk free? Would it change your mind even?”
The jailor caught a laugh before responding. “Can’t say it would.”
“So, what’s it that you want? You won’t understand me, and I don’t think I’ve got the energies of persuasion to try.”
“Try.”
“You like the Bosses?”
“They’re okay. Keep me in work anyway. Keep people safe.” I slumped forward onto my knees where I sat and placed my elbows on my knees and watched the crack at the base of the door on the other side of the prison cell. “What’s it matter if they keep you in work? Think they care about you anymore than what you represent?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you keep riffraff down and they like you for it. I wonder if they know you. You ever get invited to the feasts they hold at the hall? You ever worry about your water rations? You ever wonder why it is that so few of the women or men invited to the hall return? Children too, now that I think of it. They’d call those captured criminals, I know. Those brothers—the sheriff is to blame too—they’re bastards. You know they are.”
“Is that so? What’s that make me? A bastard too?”
“By proxy maybe.” I dryly chuckled. “What’s it matter? What do you want outta’ me anyhow? Some gratification? Some confession—you’ve gotten that already, ain’tcha? Maybe a repentance? Why don’t you call one of those Bosses on down from their throne and have them here on the other side of the door so I can apologize? Or call Lady and I’ll get her to channel some message to the afterlife and I’ll plead for forgiveness. That what you want? Now I’m a bad man and I know it, but it ain’t for the reasons you believe. What you want is belief that there’s a man under the skin of the monster you’ve projected? No, I won’t shoo away your boogeyman for you. It can’t be done, not from me.”
“You talk big for someone in your predicament. I like how you talk so holier. Like you’re talking down on me. I just wanted to know what made you want to go on a mad-killing spree the way you did.”
“Mm.” I cupped my hands together; as it was, my left knee shot off with pain and I tried to massage it to little comfort and stretched it out straight from my body. “When violence keeps you bound, violence is necessary to free yourself. That’s all I’ll say about it. If you hang me, then hang me. Spill my guts out for the birds and put a sack over my head so you won’t be sick by my face.”
“You’re a mouthy pig.”
I listened to the jailor’s footfalls disappear down the hall and finally it was totally quiet and all I could hear was the throb on my head. Lucky or unlucky? No, it wasn’t luck. I’d been marked. I was the payment, and I knew the price. The demon had my soul. Whatever protection it afforded me, I intended on using.
The image of that room continued over in my mind, with the peasantry (that’s what I saw them as then) knelt in front of the Bosses and the wall men, with the intense blood-smell, with the surprise on Maron’s face. Billy’s face. There was still a part of me, however small, that wanted to plead with him to change his ways. That wasn’t the part that welled up in me then though. The piece of me that wanted to see him die was what took over. It hadn’t been Maron that fired his gun; he’d still been fighting with his holster. I’d only taken a step in through the door and a spray of gunfire from one of the wall men’s rifles exploded and I was sure I was dead because I fell, and my vision went white. They should’ve put me down then.
I didn’t come too fully until I had a few goons on me, hauling me upright roughly under my arms. Maron didn’t say anything at first and those wall men took over; they shouted that I was alive still and I felt a hot gun barrel against my cheek.
“Stop!” shouted Maron. The Boss Sheriff stepped forward with his stilted gait and looked me over thoroughly. The gun barrel fell from my cheek, but they held me still; it wasn’t like I planned on fighting. “You got uglier,” said Boss Maron, “Really ugly.” His left eye, afflicted by the skitterbug infestation, had gone dead white with only the faintest trace of an iris; it dribbled pus.
I held his stare to the point that my eyes watered—whether from anger or sorrow or both—and my muscles tightened like an animal threatening to pounce. It was a ridiculous display.
“Lock him up,” said Boss Maron.
So, I was locked up and those uncounted days I was mildly tortured: sleep deprivation, pummeling, and sometimes they spit on me. It could have been worse. I’d seen worse.
The cell was numbingly quiet, and I continued to massage my knee, continued in thinking about how investing so much thought with the past twisted any future of mine into a dismal satire.
I could not tell how long it had been without sunlight and the jailor returned (he was bulbous and fattened and old but very strong—it could be sensed in how he carried himself) pushed through the door this time with a tray of diced potatoes, steamed but cold, and a metal cup of water. He sat them on the floor, stared at the tray there with his one good left eye, and it was like I could read his mind as he looked at the food there. He could destroy it; he jerked from the tray without saying a word to me then disappeared behind the door he closed. The jailor remained there outside.
Pride swelled in me momentarily before I pushed whatever silliness that was and devoured the food and drank the clear water. If it was poison, so be it. If it was poison, then all the problems of the world would disperse.
Again, the jailor pushed in through the door and bent to remove the tray and I was struck by the immediate thought of strangling him. So, I tried and threw myself at the man.
My hands felt the scruff around his throat, and I pressed hard with my fingers on his Adams apple. He’d lurched forward to lift the tray and he immediately came up with force, throwing me off him; my nails raked his cheek as I scrambled for purchase. He took the metal tray in both of his hands and thwapped me across the head—it rang, and I was stunned while he lifted back his right hand in a swing. In the dizziness, I momentarily caught a glimpse of the holster on his left hip and reached out dumbly for the revolver there. A meaty smack could be heard, and I didn’t even feel it when his fist met my face the second time. My head rocked and I fought to look upright, and his hand came again, and I put up my own hand in return; it was pushed away, and he continued at me, muttering epithets he found useful.
Once he was heaving and spitting, he left me on the cot and directly before slamming the door, he mentioned something about violence and how if I liked violence so much that he’d show it to me.
I nursed myself to sitting right-up and though adrenaline kept the pain away, I felt my face bruising already. There was no way for me to inspect the welts his hands had left, but I could guess their places by touch and how they thrummed with my heart.
Two days passed, if I counted them by the visits from the jailor and then Maron made his appearance to me, and I was surprised to see him with a leather eye patch over his left eye; he seemed ill on his feet and the jailor, though the man was there, did not move to stop Maron from entering the room and relieving me of my prison. He and the jailor roped my hands together in front of my pelvis and I didn’t fight.
Boss Maron stank of infection and yellow oozed from beneath his eye patch and he kept his cowboy hat pulled snugly over both his ears and did not speak so jovially—there were no crude jokes at my expense. A warmth radiated off him. The Boss carried my shotgun with him but made no remark on it. He marched me from the prison, and I met daylight, and it burned my eyes while I stared up into the reddish sky. Dust scattered from the nearest portion of wall and caught on the wind till it was carried and disappeared overhead, and I briefly thought how nice it must be to fly.
Golgotha stirred as ever, and people spoke loudly and candidly as I passed them by. Words came my way from passing faces like, “You kissed the devil’s ass!” or, “You sure are a monster, look at you!” and Maron pushed me on with the gun at my back, and I wavered on my legs like I was without any control.
“Is it true?” asked Boss Maron, “Did you kiss the devil’s ass?” He tilted the shotgun casually on his shoulder and kept me ahead of himself. He was taking me to hang—and making a big deal out of it too. “I know how you like to speak to them. The demons. I know how you conspire with them. I told them all how you do. Now they know I was right.”
What a rotten town it was, and it smelled like it. The atrophied muscles and diseased infections of those fine folks emanated in the air, flies buzzed around my head, bloated and doubtlessly happy from whatever corpse they’d sprung from.
“Say somethin’,” said Maron.
“What do you want?” I asked, watching my footfalls, ignoring the screeches of those on the sidelines; he marched me through the runways, past the onlookers which saw me with faces of twisted hatred. The tension was palpable—I could feel the venom off the eyes of those that watched. Blood red eyes which judged carelessly.
“I want you to say it,” said Maron; I felt the nudge of the shotgun at my back again and I stumbled forward, caught myself, carried on, “I want you to admit it to me. You’re like a mutant, ain’tcha? No better than any other monster. I knew it all them years. I seen it.” We took an alley and cretins followed behind; wall men flanked Maron and on either side of the narrow stretch there were faces made even with the wall, pressed there like they were afraid to be involved.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“Don’t,” hissed Maron, “Don’t even.”
“What?” I spat the word, “Afraid they’ll treat you differently if they all know how close we are?” I felt the gun barrel press against my back, and I yelped out the words, “Hey! He’s my brother! My baby brother!” The barrel jabbed me in the spine, and I spilled forward, catching myself on one of those nearby faces. It was an old woman. She shoved me from her, and I flailed across the ground after trying to catch myself with my bound hands. Dirt met my face and exploded around me. I laughed, blinking through the dust. I spit too. He couldn’t kill me. Whatever black magic there was in me—bequeathed by Mephisto—refused me death. Maron lifted me with the help of his wall men, pinching the coat around my throat with his fist. He shoved me on, and we continued.
“You smell that?” I asked Maron.
“Stop talkin’. You might not be a man, but you’ll die like one,” he said. The wall men around muttered, and we took the way to the front square; already there were looky-loos gathered, throngs of them not at all bashful to see the day’s line-up—it was just me. The platform was emptier and that was good (Frank, Paul, and Matt looked naked without their eldest brother). Those Bosses which remained looked drunk as they did for any other execution. It was a good day for it. Warm. The stink of the crowd was worse and as those gathered parted for my entourage, the warmth of them cloistered us like the blood of a wound.
Even through the vile aroma, the smell of rotted poultry rose like nothing else. “You don’t smell it then?”
The roar, a cacophony of the damned souls stolen, shook the ground and the air changed. A dragon—Leviathan.
Along the wall which old skeletal corpses hung against dried blood stains from hook-chains, men and women scattered the length of the parapets with their weapons. Gunfire came and one of those atop the wall shouted, “Artillery! Dragon! Big guns!”
There was fire in the sky and the creature circled overhead and its wings beat the wind like mad; those organic ropes that hung from its body took on horrid shapes with its movement in the high noon sunlight.
Screams filled the air as the square erupted into panic. I dove into the sickly crowd; among the loudness, the horses which were lined by the big door fought against their ties and bolted across the square. Arms and heads disappeared beneath those dashing hooves, and it was not long before people were trampling people and in a quick glance I saw the Boss platform came down in splinters as the horses rushes it. Blood slickened the feet of many as they rushed to the buildings adjacent the square—what a small protection that’d be against Leviathan. A wall man went stumbling over the wall’s ledge and his body met the ground beneath the hanging corpses and he didn’t get up.
In the wild fray, Maron fired the shotgun into the air, and I briefly thought of where the pellets might fall.
Finally, artillery fire came and put a hole in the creature. It wavered in the air, its head lurched downward like it might pierce the ground and it pulled its long neck back and blew flames across the buildings. The heat was immaculate. Rotted chicken filled my lungs.
“There’s more!” shouted a wall man above, “Running across the field.”
The crowd grew more enamored with escape; there’s no good way to say it—blood frothed around our heels as I was shoved through the avenues of elbows, rocking heads, plunging knees. I pushed on, shielding myself with my bound hands as well as I could. I kept my head as high, and felt scratches reach my throat—doubtlessly those which could not continue—nails and fists came from every direction. In the ephemeral madness, I too screamed and it did not stop until I spilled into an alleyway along the wall nearest the execution chains. I ran and tripped from the crowd, slid, and bit my tongue so thoroughly that my teeth clicked together though the tissue; my breath was knocked from me. My pants were wet from the viscera. Others too had found the opening and barreled past me. I went to my feet and panted thought the pain, through the twinge in my left knee. I took the walls for support and still, those which rushed past nearly knocked me from my feet.
Some poor child—a lean, bony-faced boy—fell in the rush and before I had a moment to reach out, he was gone. Whether he lived or not, I did not stop to know. The crunch of bones as more people spilled into the narrow stretch indicated the worst.
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I work about 2 years as a RN. I feel extremely burn out and think about changing job seriously. I liked to do nursing initially, but I feel like I lose my way these days. I feel very tired, stressed, and burn out from poor management, lack of support, lack of appreciation, unsafe environment, bullying, blaming nurse, false accusations and so on.
How do you all deal with this? What kind of job can we work other than hospital settings?

I am 31F and my wife and I are currently going through our first round of IVF using my eggs and clinic donor sperm with the intention of me carrying.
I had my ER on Tuesday (28th) and we got 19 eggs, which is so much. I have PCOS so was expecting a high number but luckily we have 8 that were growing well on the 3 day and will find out tomorrow if some make it to blasts.
I am meant to have a fresh embryo transfer tomorrow but my body has been absolutely wrecked by the ER. I have been bed bound all week with bloating and pain and have been on endone which has resulted in constipation and more bloating. I am starting to feel a bit better but I don’t think my body is well enough to transfer.
If it’s not and I’m not feeling well we will do a freeze all cycle and then do a FET in the future and I know another month or 2 in the grand scheme of things is nothing but we have been preparing for this for so long and I feel a little disappointed. But I want to make sure I do the right thing by my body and give our embryo the best chance possible.
I guess my question is has anyone gone into a fresh transfer feeling quite unwell and what were your outcomes?
I knew this would be hard but I don’t think I was fully prepared for how physically painful this would be. The nurses were like ‘just take some paracetamol and you’ll be fine’ but that has not been my experience.
Any info is greatly appreciated.

So i was scrolling through tiktoks to watch clips from the orlando show that I went to and came across this post. I totally respect everyones opinions but it’s just so shocking to me that anyone could walk out of the show feeling disappointed. I absolutely loved the show. Maybe it’s because i’ve been a Crybaby since I was in 7th grade (I’m 21 years old now) and I finally got to see Mel perform these songs live that I’ve loved since childhood. And the fact it felt so special because like a lot of older Crybabies, I feel like I grew up with Crybaby’s story as she put out each album/part of the trilogy so seeing it all play out live had me emotional. But anyway, in regard to the post, Melanie is getting a lot more recognition now and that means packed venues, thus the need for the screen so everyone can get a chance to see her. But even with that everything was so well thought out and put together with such cool ideas; like the costumes, the props, the intermissions like the transition into pity party when we sang happy birthday to Crybaby, or the sudden cut off from wheels on the bus to class fight, or crybabys death after hssh, how we got to see a closeup angle of Mel while she performed Nurses Office.”, the choreography from the dancers (they were all amazing btw). Mel is a bigger artist now and no offense, but since the venues are more and more packed as time goes on, if it was just her up there singing her songs with non of the extra stuff, it wouldn’t have been as entertaining to her audience. Yes it was a giant performance but performing is also a form of art and I really appreciate how much thought Mel put into how she wanted the show to play out to her audience, telling Crybaby’s trilogy from beginning to end.

I live in a psychiatric nursing home. Things I can do: 1. Watch tv/movies 2. Learn Languages 3. Read 4. Digital art 5. Origami 6. Watercolor 7. Handlettering 8. Writing 9. Make a video game 10. Write a comic 11. Get into music
Healthy choices I can make: 1. We're allowed one salad a day if we sign up in time 2. I can only workout once a week bc imsore five days after 3. Cold showers
Anyy other ideas on how I can mentor my life better or ideas I'd appreciate.

My husband was adopted from birth and was given formula only. Whenever we talk about the benefits of breast milk vs formula, he just says how he turned out just fine. I try to explain to him that it’s not just long term, but also short term benefits while the baby is so young and immune system is developing. He just doesn’t believe it’s truly “liquid gold” and if it was that good, how can we just switch to whole milk after a year.
I have worked very hard to nurse after my son being diagnosed with failure to thrive, and working through small amounts of combo feeding due to oral ties. We are now doing great and I nurse/pump at work for him. I am very proud of how far I have come and of all the hard work I have done to establish this supply. He is almost 4 months old and really thriving!
I just wish he were more supportive or understanding of all the hard work I have done and maybe appreciate that I would do the best thing for our child. If mentally it had gotten too bad, I would have switched to formula, but I was able to breastfeed and will until at least 6 months of age. Does anyone else’s husband think this breastfeeding >>formula isn’t all it’s talked up to be? How did you discuss it or get h to me to appreciate why you choose to breast feed?

I (37F - no previous medical history) discovered my upper outer quadrant lump when I was leaning down into a top load washer to pull clothes out. I had put so much weight onto my right breast that I went...uh...why did that hurt? And by hurt I mean as if I had just put a bunch of weight on something and not a sharp internal pain (if that makes any sense at all). After discovery, I was in the new hire process for a job and was waiting for insurance. This process took me 5 months. Leapfrog forward in time with me:
5/19 - I got approved for insurance.
5/20 - I had my GYN appointment
5/23 - I had a diagnostic mammogram and a right diagnostic ultrasound. During that same appointment they came out and told me that I would need a surgical consult. And that I need not wait on surgical to call me, but for me to call surgical the next morning to schedule a consult. My boyfriend asked why we didn't get results (as in cancer or not). I told him they can't say at this point if it is or isn't but it isn't good that they want me to get in touch with surgical so quickly.
5/30 - I had my surgical consult and they said. Yep you need a biopsy. They'll call you in 3-5 business days.
5/31 - I got the US report (see below). I called the radiology department and basically emotionally manipulated them into scheduling me (instead of waiting). They did.
6/5 - Core needle biopsy is scheduled.
US Results - Bi RADS 4, suspicious for malignancy. A 3.0 cm x 2.2 cm x 2.5 cm indistinct irregular nodule at the 11 o'clock position, 5 cm from the nipple. There is an adjacent inseperable component measuring 1.7 cm x 1.3 x 1.4 cm. There is a 1.5 cm x 1.7 cm x 1.2 cm irregular nodule at the 10 o'clock position, 5 cm from the nipple.
Thoughts - I. Am. Freaking. Out. I am a nurse and specialize in trauma. Birthing babies and cancer are wayyy out of my scope, so I feel like I know just enough to be dangerous to my own mind. Tell me that US doesn't read cancer?!
I'm doing my best not to doom scroll Google but 50% of tumors found in the upper outer quadrant are cancer. Fibros don't tend to cluster on top of each other. It's not a cyst. A giant nodule that grows another large nodule nestled next to another large nodule.
I say all of this to ask why this feels so lonely. I don't really want to tell anyone. I swear if one more person tells me, "You'll be okay," I'm going to scream! I'm tired of everyone's story because everyone has a story (and of course it was benign and "yours" will be too) - also, I can appreciate the irony of me being on the internet telling strangers my story. But at least if you're here, you want to hear it. And if you're here then maybe I'm not so alone. I'm trying my best to keep a smile but I'm quicker to tears.
I keep thinking about my kids and what if I'm dead within a year. And who waits? Why did I wait? I shouldn't have waited? WTF is wrong with you?! And yes, I'm aware I shouldn't be thinking those things or focusing on those things but here we are.
And it achhhhhesss. It used to not. There were some weeks I would forget it was there. But now, now it is violent in its existence. The ache mocks me.
So, reddit. You tell me...